Presented to death
by B. A. Ware
Summary: Idea of "Voldemort had lousy childhood, lets give him a present" that didn't go in the right direction. T just in case.


Don't own anything from below. Everything came from J.K Rowling's books, I`am just messing around in her sandbox. If she tells so, ill go play elsewhere.

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Harry was thinking, and he was thinking hard. Well, what could you really take interest in spending all day in a small room with practically nothing to do and a man outside that took the mantle of "Harry hunting" from Dudley and decided that the season was open for foreseeable future. Being mentioned in prophecy that said you will face such an eager sportsman also helped focus your attention.

So with those thoughts Harry was pacing smallest bedroom at Privet Drive #4 where he found himself once again locked for the first period of the summer, this being the one right after his 5th year. He was pacing, because the more he was thinking about a solution for his situation the grater chaos he had in his head, which was multiplied proportionally to the size of the task at hand, so he was loosing track of thought more often than not, and it got him irritated really fast.

In an attempt to vent some frustration, he hit nearest thing, which turned out to be a bookshelf. His hand hurt and did fine job in distracting him from everything, including fact that hitting things in this room wasn't the smartest idea. To make it clear it needs to be remembered that this furniture for years carried the weight of all the toys and presents that Dudley wasn't interested in. So, while Harry was checking his fist and calming himself, bookshelf which he hit chose that moment to break apart and came crashing down on top of him with all the books. In contact, Harry's consciousness chose to go on vacation.

Its funny how odds work, because while he was coming back, his mind wiped clean thanks to the earlier black out, his gaze went to scattered books and stopped on an old dictionary, and with all that earlier thinking about prophecy, Harry had an eye-opener (Newton resting under a tree getting hit by an apple, or Archimedes relaxing in bath kind of eye-opener). Sure, he had only half a mind to think, lying under bookshelf with slight concussion, but what do you have those Marauders genes for?? So, in an instant he had a plan, and somewhat a weird thought that he heard his father and Sirius snickering in the distance, but he dismissed it because his head hurt and he had to write to Professor Dumbledore to ask for help in putting his plan in motion.

Couple of days later, Lord Voldemort, from career choice somewhat night person, was woken in the middle of the night (read: 9:57 AM) by the sound of the wards falling and immediately leapt to action. But he was stunned to see that his hideout wasn't attacked by a vast army but by a flock of owls, well if you can call a mass of owls as far as you can see a simple flock, but this train of thought was abruptly ended when owls saw him and started heading his way. Never to meet such a situation, Voldemort apparated to his secondary hideout to consider course of action, while his Death Eaters were too terrified to concentrate and were running like some muggles in a film, covering from owls that were trying to identify if this was their "target".

His plans to think things through would have worked if he had time to think, because he had time to walk from apparation point to his throne room, which he had in every hideout, when the scenario played itself again. Wards collapsing and owls flying at him from every direction. Not thinking much he abandoned this location as well to seek safety elsewhere. But it happened again, and then again, and them some more times. Wherever he went, moments later owls were flying at him, and for the first time he thought, just how many were there??

Truthfully, at exact moment when he though that, there were about 95% of owls in Great Britain after him, because Harry bought out all delivery owls for one delivery, and Professor Dumbledore contacted Order of the Phoenix, which members contacted their friends and family, which then contacted theirs, and so on... and everyone made delivery, all to Tom Riddle Jr. But back to the present.

When Voldemort finally gave up with the escape plan he was too tired to cast any powerful spells and the lesser ones were too weak to drive away many owls at once. Owls on the other hand felt frustrated about their "target" running around, so they started dropping their packages on top of Voldemort's head, packages which he only now noticed. When one owl made a successful delivery it took flight, but another came, having to fly all the way after him. Realizing that packages weren't stopping, Dark Lord was already buried in a pile up to his neck and was too tired to be running again. And so, as he was being slowly crushed under the growing pile, the last thoughts to cross his mind were that if you had enough of small things they became great power. Second thought was that he really didn't know what was in all those packages.

Later in the days, (after the remains of late Lord Voldemort were found, and world was at peace at last) some muggle businessmen (which earlier discoveries didn't consider, how sad) met and were talking about how on one day a man came to all their warehouses and bought out one peculiar item from the list. Just why would anyone need so many padded foot wear??


End file.
